For the Long Run
by LuxaLucifer
Summary: Snippets of Zevran Arainai and Maitimo Mahariel's relationship; their love, their laughter, and the things they had to do to survive.
1. The Dance

Hey, this is the first part of what is, right now, an eleven part series. I'm going to mark it as completed, but there might be future installments, I'm not sure yet. Just some short works about Zevran and Maiti Mahariel. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"I'm flirting with you."

Zevran was accustomed to partners who knew the dance, who would smile and wink and exchange innuendos with the best of them. He was used to Antiva- or, more honestly, he was used to flirting with other Crows, men and women who knew they could die any day. This big man with a soft heart seemed ignorant of that very fact despite the dangers they faced every day.

This, however, was new. Mahariel was smiling sheepishly, ignoring the pitter patter of raindrops as they hit the leaves of Brecilian Forest.

"Do you really need to specify?" he said, laughing. "Usually you don't tell someone you're flirting with someone. You just do."

"I don't know how to," replied the Warden, pulling his helmet off and shaking his red hair loose, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. "So I figured I'd just tell you."

The Warden set his helmet on the ground and began digging around in his pack. Zevran wondered where the others had gone. Morrigan and Alistair weren't two people that were easy to miss. Suddenly, though, it was just the two of them and half a dozen trees, the wind moving through them at an alarming pace.

"I found these gloves," said the Warden, pulling them out of his bag, armored hands almost crushing the soft leather hiding past the metal. "I thought you might like them. You were telling me about your mother, so I thought of- they're probably stupid, but maybe they're not."

Mahariel shot him a tentative smile and handed him the gloves. Zevran examined them, smiling slightly at the designs on them.

"For me?" he said.

"Yes," said the Warden. "Whether or not you want me, uh, flirting with you. They're yours."

Zevran looked down at the gloves, unable to express what he was feeling in that moment. "They're not exact," he heard himself drawl. "But they're very close."

He looked back up. "Thank you. No one's ever given me a gift before."

The smile spread across Maiti Mahariel's face, turning into a grin more carefree and happy than Zevran had ever expected coming from a man in full armor. The smile was so wide and big it look almost painful, straining at the sides of his face.

"Do you mind if I flirt?" said Mahariel.

"No," said Zevran, throwing back his head and letting out a laugh. "I don't mind if you flirt."


	2. Blight Bees?

"Come out of the tent, Mahariel, I swear it will not be so bad."

"You'll laugh at me, I know you will," came the immediate muffled reply from within the tent. "Morrigan already did."

"Morrigan does that," said Zevran. "But I won't. Come, mi amor."

"No!"

"May I come in, if you're having so much trouble? That way the big bad qunari and the scary bard won't bother you."

"You're already mocking me, Zevran."

Zevran sighed. "You're right, I am. I'm sorry. Can I come in?"

"…Fine."

Zevran pushed the flap to the tent aside, his eyes taking a second to adjust to the dim light. Normally he loved his time spent here, among Maiti's bed of animal furs and little Dalish trinkets he kept in a basket. Light often fractured on the mirror he kept, reflecting on the canvas walls and making the tent feel heady and hot. Right now, however, Maiti was sprawled on the furs, mumbling incoherently.

"Look at my eye," said Maiti, sitting up and pointing to his right eye. "I got stung. It was awful."

Just something silly for a silly Warden.

* * *

"How big was the bee?" said Zevran, kneeling and taking a closer look.

"They were so big," said one of the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, the only one with any chance of defeating the Archdemon and ending the Fifth Blight. He said it so mournfully. "And there were so many. They must have been Blight bees. They hurt so much."

Zevran frowned at the sight of his Warden's swollen face. Bee stings were supposed to look puffy, yes, but not like this. He had to have had a bad reaction to it.

"You know," he said, arranging the furs so they could lean back on them and still be sitting. He positioned himself next to his muscular elf, firmly setting two fingers under his chin and turning his face to meet Zevran's gaze. Maiti's eye was nearly swollen shut, a whole half of his face puffed and red. "It's okay to cry."

Maiti's lip, distorted by the stings, trembled. "You won't laugh?"

"No," he said. "I won't laugh."

Maiti's visible eye filled with tears and Zevran kept one hand on his cheek, caressing his skin as he fumbled for his belt with the other hand. It only took him a few moments to retrieve his poisons kit. Maiti clearly recognized what it was and shifted away from him slightly.

He found the correct tonic and dabbed a bit on his finger, rubbing it into Maiti's face. Mahariel sighed in relief, the pain clouding his features disappearing.

"Why do you put up with me?" said Maiti, fingers fumbling to touch his face.

"Now, now, don't get all serious on me," said Zevran. "Your face needs time to heal, and frowning will make it take longer."

"Really?"

Zevran tilted Maiti's chin towards him, pressing a kiss to burning lips. "Really. Let's say we have some fun to help you forget your problem, hm?"

Maiti smiled against his lips. "I like that idea," he said. "I like that idea a lot."


	3. Bribery

"Can the painted elf be quiet?"

Zevran understood many things, some of them simple, some of them complex, but he would never understand why his Warden insisted on bringing him places with both the qunari and the golem.

"I am only sharpening my weapons," said Zevran. "I am not even speaking! Or I wasn't until you decided to take a painful jab at me. Oh, Warden, why do you let them carry on like this!"

Maiti shot him an apologetic look but continued counting his coin as he purchased a new set of armor. Zevran didn't understand why those big sets of plate he found whenever they went out weren't good enough. Maiti cared as much about his armor as Zevran did his boots, though, and he couldn't fault him for being passionate about something like that.

Sten was standing as still as the golem was. Zevran resisted the urge to dance around him, poking and tugging at him to get his attention. The man made him want to act childish, and while Maiti wouldn't mind, Zevran prided himself a little more than that.

"How are you, Sten?" he said. Perhaps he could poke and prod without even getting up from his tree stump.

"I am the same as always," answered the qunari shortly. It was no fun pissing off someone who was already angry, but Zevran did his best anyway.

"Oh? You are no different? Not even with all those cookies in your stomach?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Zevran laughed. "Sure you don't. I saw you in front of that bakery. Is that where all your coin goes?"

"Don't tell the others," grunted Sten, glancing in the direction of Shale, who was staring at the treeline rather menacingly.

"Oh? What do I get in return?"

"What do you want?"

"A kiss," said Zevran. Maiti heard this and chuckled, but didn't say anything. Thankfully, Sten seemed too intent on his words to notice.

There was a long silence. A long one. Then…

"Fine," said Sten.

He walked over to Zevran and gruffly stuck his hand under Zevran's chin, pulling it up. Zevran, who could honestly not believe this was happening, grinned. Sten reached down and pecked Zevran's nose with his lips before letting him go.

"There," said Sten.

Zevran rubbed his nose, still grinning. "Amazing!"

"No telling," said Sten.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said.

Meanwhile, Shale was killing a pigeon.


	4. Celebrations

It had been a day full of celebration.

He had been drinking for most of it.

The Archdemon was dead, the Blight was over, and his Warden lived. What reason was there to stay sober?

When they'd come to the tavern, all of them, both old and new (the Warden had begged Alistair to come with tears in his eyes, please, just pretend Loghain's not there, I'm sorry, I need you), Zevran had thought, hm, this should be fun.

Within an hour he was knocking drinks back pint for pint with Oghren.

Two hours in he asked the bard to kick it up a notch. He wanted music that aroused, he told her. She stared at him with fear in her eyes.

Three hours in he had pulled Loghain up from his table, knocking over his beer in the process and planting a sloppy kiss on the old man's face. The tavern had laughed loudly enough to mask Loghain's annoyed shouting. Zevran had then proclaimed him a righteous old fellow and let him grumble back in his seat.

At least twice he had roused the tavern in an impromptu round of appreciation for Alistair, expressed both times in bawdy war songs.

Four hours in he was telling Leliana how pretty her hair was, so pretty, she was so pretty, and his stomach felt a little funny, but that was okay because she was so pretty.

At some point he found himself on the table, shouting "The Archdemon is dead! Praise the Maker!" At least Oghren was clapping for him.

Wynne was drinking a lot too, but she was laughing at the end of the night, which was a sight better than Zevran's morning activities, where he spent his early hours in the bathroom, listening to Shale call him incompetent for not knowing his own limits.

When he finally felt well enough to return to the bedroom, his Warden was there, watching him with a smile.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, remembering what he'd heard about how an Archdemon is slain. "You're alive, after all."


	5. Spring

I think here's the place with the biggest gap- from here on out it's post blight. :')

* * *

It was spring in Antiva City. It had taken Zevran a longtime for his training to fade away enough for him to sleep in, to let his body relax and be, if even a little, off guard for such a long time.

The Warden stirred next to him, tangled hair obscuring his face. The blankets were tucked firmly into his side, forcing Zevran close to him if he wanted any. Zevran didn't mind. The big elf radiated heat and they liked to keep the windows open at night. The breeze was nice, making the drapes blow in and dance in the moonlight.

Zevran pulled the hair away from Maiti's eyes, smoothing his forehead free of stray strands. His Warden looked so peaceful when asleep. Very different from usual, with the energy he had that made him move around even when relaxed and safe.

Maiti's face was smooth and warm to the touch. Zevran traced the vallislin on his face with a touch so softly that Maiti didn't even stir. He threaded his fingers into those dark red locks, pulling out the tangles out deftly.

Maiti smiled blearily, eyes fluttering open. "Hey there," he said, voice rasping from sleep.

"Welcome to the bright world," said Zevran, accent thicker than he meant for. Maiti's smile grew at the sound.

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" said Maiti, eyelashes fluttering as he closed his eyes again.

Zevran smoothed back the long red hair. "Nothing but what I said," he murmured, pull the sheets closer around them. "I was sincere."

"I like that about you," said Maiti, still smiling. "So sincere." With Maiti, Zevran could believe that he meant it.

Zevran spent a few more moments with his hand in Maiti's hair, a few stolen moments before the day began. He leaned down, pressing his lips to Maiti's, a simple chaste kiss. When he pull away, his lips leaving Maiti's warm ones, they were both smiling.


	6. Favorites

"You know one of my favorite things about you?" said Maiti, smiling as he watched Zevran.

"What is that?" said Zevran, who was on his knees in front of the big elf, but for a different reason than usual.

"Your love of animals."

"What are you talking about?" said Zevran, standing with the cat now perched on his head.

"I know I'm not the smartest guy out there," said Maiti. "But that looks like you loving an animal."

"This cat is special," said Zevran, pointing up at the cat, who meowed. "It's the only cat I've ever seen that doesn't mess up my hair when it lays here."

"It's a perfect cat," said Maiti, reaching up to pet it

"She," said Zevran. "I thought maybe we could keep her."

"Sure," said Maiti, pulling the cat up and into his arms, or attempting to. It claws at him and he pouted, rubbing his cheek.

"I was thinking of naming her Rinna, if that is okay."

"Of course it is," Maiti said, pressing a kiss to Zevran's hairline, the cat batting at him as he did so.


	7. Scarlets and Yellows

"The scarlets and yellows…they make your eyes shine almost silver!"

"You're too kind," said Zevran, waggling his eyebrows as he smiled. He had to agree that the clothes Maiti had ordered for him did fit rather splendidly. It never hurt to have someone cheer you on the way Maiti did. Before his big lug of a Warden had come along, most of his encouragement had come from himself.

He patted Maiti on the chest. His own outfit was entirely red, an absolutely terrible color for the red-headed Dalish elf, and it looked like it had come a size too small. Perhaps when the seamstress had heard it was for an elf she had refused to believe that the sizing was correct. Either way, Maiti was fit to bursting in his outfit, every muscle outlined and defined. Zevran rather liked the effect.

"Silver, though?" said Zevran, thinking about what Maiti had said as they walked from their little room into the hall. They'd been invited to a ball- or rather, Zevran had, as head of the Crows. Zevran had a dagger hidden on both legs and one visible, just to show that he was prepared. Maiti was unarmed. The big elf couldn't bring his huge sword with him, and besides, he didn't need a weapon to be dangerous.

"That's what I thought in the moment," said Maiti, rubbing his neck.

"My eyes are brown," said Zevran.

"I know that," said Maiti, voice rising in defense. "They're beautiful."

"Yes," said Zevran. "Beautiful but brown."

"They looked silver right then," said Maiti, biting his lip. Zevran glanced over and realized that he'd been pointlessly arguing semantics. How silly of him, to make his Warden feel bad.

"I'm sure they did," he said, reaching up to pat Maiti's cheek.

Maiti sighed slightly. "You don't sound like you believe me, but okay. Whatever color your eyes are, you're here."

Zevran swallowed hard. They'd been separated for several months as Zevran quelled resistance to his takeover and smoked out the last Guildmaster. He hadn't wanted to put Maiti in danger. As silly as that sound, Maiti would get himself killed to protect Zevran, and he didn't always know when Zevran was faking an injury mid battle.

"Silver, brown," he said, pulling Maiti's head over to kiss his cheek. "In that moment I bet that's exactly what it was."

He softly added, before Maiti could say anything, "I'm glad you're here."

Maiti's hand wrapped around his waist, holding him close, and that said all it needed to.


	8. A Song A Day

His Warden, his big strong Mahariel, was sleeping for the first time in days. Zevran smoothed the lines off his brow, frowning at the idea that he was being tormented even in his sleep.

He traced the blood ink tattoos on his Warden's face with calloused fingers. There had been scarcely a night in the past couple of years when Zevran had not returned to sleep in those big arms. The prospect of losing him did not please him (it terrified him, actually, but to put a word to that feeling would make it so much more real). He'd gotten too used to that embrace.

The Calling. Before it had been a vague dark cloud in the distance, something that would trouble them when they were older, more prepared. Not now. That insidious whisper wasn't supposed to take him from him now.

"Zevran," whispered his Warden, eyes bleary with sleep. "I'm having bad dreams, Zev."

His voice sounded so tired, so broken, that Zevran locked away the fear in his heart and smiled down at Maiti. "I'm here, my love," he said, wishing he remembered how to say it in the Dalish tongue. "I'll always be here." Right until the very end.

Maiti turned, sheets rippling around them, the sweat on Maiti's brow shining in the moonlight.

The lullaby came unbidden from Zevran's lips, a lost memory from the whorehouse piecing itself back together. He hummed it, hand smoothing back damp red hair. His Warden stopped trembling the more Zevran hummed, so he sat with his back against the headboard and stared out the window into Antiva City and sang to keep the Calling away.


	9. A Song For Life

Direct sequel to A Song For Life. Thanks for reading. :)

* * *

"I didn't know you could sing."

Zevran was shaken out of his thoughts by his Warden waking,a big hand on his thigh. He often joked with Maiti about his size, calling him the world's most muscular elf. It was probably true. Mahariel was huge, pounds of muscle packed into an elven frame, all sinew and brawn. During the Blight Maiti would, after a fight, strip his armor off and to get air and in doing so give Zevran a front seat view of that heaving, deliciously sweaty chest.

"Are you talking about my little lullaby from last night?" he said, smiling and hoping it reached his eyes. "I wouldn't really call that singing."

"It was lovely," said Maiti, hand moving to caress Zevran's thigh further. He was calm now, but Zevran knew the Calling whispered at him, plaguing the back of his mind, slipping into his thoughts.

"Count yourself lucky then," said Zevran. "It's the only time I've sung in a long time. You're special."

When Maiti Mahariel grinned the skin around his eyes creased. Zevran lived for that. "You're only telling me I'm special just now?" he said, a whine creeping into his tone.

"You know you are, Hero of Ferelden," he said, moving from Maiti's side to hovering over him, a leg on either side of the Warden's torso.

Mahariel's face fell. "I'm not proud of myself for that," he said. "That's not…I don't deserve any special treatments. I made mistakes. All I want is to be special to you, to the one person that matters."

Maiti reached up and traced the tattoos on Zevran's face. Zevran let him. His Warden was a sentimental fool, and the Crow he had been many years ago would have laughed at Mahariel's words and the tone with which he said them.

"You are, mi amor," he said, leaning down to kiss his Warden, threading his fingers through thick red hair, their noses bumping like teenagers new at the whole business. "We will make it through this. We always do."


	10. Strong Arms

"Zevran, it's okay, I'm okay, she's okay, calm down-"

His Warden's face had been covered in blood before, sometimes even his own, but it have never worried like it did now. He felt his chest heaving, every nerve lit on fire. Their idyllic little life showed obvious signs of the interruption they'd faced- the sheets on their bed were ripped and thrown aside, the crib knocked over. The little portrait of the three of them was knocked over on the bedside table. Maiti was holding their child in his arms, ignoring the gash that wept blood from his eyebrow to his chin.

"I failed you," said Zevran, blades held so tightly that his fingers were white and cramped. The body at their feet seemed to mock him. "They shouldn't have made it so far. They should have- I should have-"

The possibility of losing Maiti, the big silly Warden who'd gone through so much with him, the man who'd carried the weight of his sins on his shoulders with a smile, the (dare he say it) the love of his life, made his throat constrict. The thought of losing their child made him feel even worse- there was no description in the world that could describe the horror of it.

He watched, numb, as Maiti calmed their child, the little girl they'd gone through so much to get. He rocked her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, wiping some of his blood off her as he pulled her crib back up and laid her in it.

"Your face," Zevran murmured, finally speaking as his hand rose to touch the wound, daggers clattering to the ground. Maiti winced, either at the sound or at what it meant for Zevran to let that happen. "I'm sorry."

"You always said scars were dashing," said Maiti, grinning.

"But you shouldn't get them this way," said Zevran.

Maiti's grin slipped, his expression giving way to worry. "Zev, it's okay. We're okay."

If Zevran's childhood had been normal, if he had grown up around a cacophony of family and chatter and bickering instead of a whirlwind of blood and fighting, he might had sobbed. Instead Maiti knew to hold him close and he buried his face in Maiti's strong chest, the embroidery that Maiti had sewn onto his tunic scratching his nose and cheek. Big arms held him and whispered things like, "I've got you, I'll protect you, I'll protect her, you can let go, just for a little while, you can let go." In those arms, Zevran forgot what he'd learned as a child. In those arms, he cried.

In those arms, he believed his Warden.


	11. Say Something

This is what I have written- so the end for the foreseeable future. If I add more I'll likely keep it in chronological order, so this will remain the last story. Thank you for reading! :)

* * *

"Well, we're here."

It was an understatement. Maiti's soft wheeze of laughter petered out quickly. Even his good cheer had diminished as they traveled, his graying red locks thinning and falling out, the laughter lines on his face a reminder of the mirth there had been. Maiti hated the Deep Roads. Zevran hated why they were there even more.

"I sense them ahead," said Maiti evenly.

They had held each other the last few nights, Zevran murmuring soft nothings into Maiti's ears, stroking his skin, his vallislin, his hair, but never the marks of corruption beginning to creep their way up his neck. They both pretended it wasn't there, that the Hero of Ferelden wasn't about to meet the end he'd always known was coming. They'd made love in the dark of the Deep Roads and they had held each other. There wasn't much else left to do, other than say something.

They had to say something to each other now, because before long it would be too late.

"How many?" said Zevran.

"Enough."

Maitimo Mahariel was never serious. They had spent thirty years- more than that, they had been lucky to glean a little more time than most- together. They had had thirty years. They had done so much. The Blight, the Inquisition. Zevran was head of the Crows, if he so wished to return. They had raised a child together (Zevran had not been there for that farewell, even thinking about it made his chest ache). So much more time than most, but it didn't feel like enough.

"I'm coming with you," said Zevran.

It was the thought they had both been too afraid to voice. Zevran waited for the reaction he knew was to come.

"You can't," said Maiti, and the whine in his tone broke Zevran more than any tool of the Crows ever had.

"I can and I will, mi amor," said Zevran.

"I need you to live," said Maiti. "Maker, it's silly now, isn't it. How many Warden have said this to the ones they loved? How many listened? But please, listen to me."  
Many thought there wasn't much more to Maiti that a large sword and a big smile. Zevran had always known this was not the truth.

"I love you," said Maiti. They rarely spoke those words. Gestures, they thought, said it all. "I don't want to die with you."

"I don't want you to die alone."

"You wanted to die when we first met," said Maiti, green eyes boring into Zevran's own. "Don't grant that wish now. Not after all this time. You can go back. There are only a few stray darkspawn between here and the surface. Go back, be safe. Mourn me and all that. Live, be happy."

"You ask much of me," said Zevran, who felt like the rug was being pulled from under him. He had expected Mahariel to protest his saying. He hadn't expected to listen to him.  
"It's my dying wish," he said. He had the audacity to smile.

Zevran reached for him, and they held each other like the world was ending. In that moment it was. Zevran buried his head in Maiti Mahariel's shoulder and sobbed, the warm skin of Maiti's shoulder more painful than comforting.

Minutes passed. Zevran pulled away. Maiti leaned forward, pressing his lips to Zevran's forehead. "Thank you for everything," Maiti whispered. He lowered his face next to Zevran's, taking a long, shuddering breath. Zevran could feel his closed eyes, eyelashes thick with tears as they fluttered on his cheek.

"Mi amor," said Maiti, voice choked.

"Mi amor," said Zevran.

He reached a hand up to run through his Warden's hair one final time. When he pulled away, Maiti was gone, and that was that. The Hero of Ferelden was dead. Zevran did the only thing he could. He lived.


End file.
